


tied on his finger

by MajesticAnna



Series: tapes [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotions, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticAnna/pseuds/MajesticAnna
Summary: Hinata sighs and considers banging his head against his now closed locker. He doesn’t, if only that he doesn’t want to traumatize anyone with his unconscious body.And also because he might actually, probably, be having a bad day. One that will hopefully improve beyond this quite shitty morning.+++Hinata has a Bad Day.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: tapes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940833
Comments: 22
Kudos: 193





	tied on his finger

Hinata swings his locker door shut. The latch snags on his finger and he slams the metal door into it.

“Fu—” Hinata cuts off his swear into furious whispers of ‘ow ow ow ow ow’, clutching his finger to his chest.

When the pain ebbs into a manageable throb, he releases his finger to examine it.

It looks fine on the surface, only a hangnail bleeding slowly. But when he experimentally touches it, a twinge of pain pulses through him.

Jammed. Great. Just fucking great.

Hinata sighs and considers banging his head against his now closed locker. He doesn’t, if only that he doesn’t want to traumatize anyone with his unconscious body.

And also because he might actually, probably, be having a bad day. One that will hopefully improve beyond this quite shitty morning.

First, he woke up late, and after scrambling his bike together, realized he would be biking in a light rain. Which would have been fine, honestly, if people knew how to fucking drive. He had almost been run off the road no less than three times, drivers going way too fast in weather that required headlights and wipers. Then, when he got to school, decently drenched, he was already late for practice, his team having started their morning jog. He changed into his volleyball clothes, and even though the rain had lightened, managed to slip in the mud and get covered in wet muck.

Ukai had taken one look at him and told him to change. Which really, it really would have been fine! If he hadn’t forgotten to bring an extra pair of clothes in his rush to get to school.

And so, he had to miss the majority of practice while waiting for replacement clothes. Yachi found an old pair in the storage closet and he almost cried with relief. She truly kept Hinata together during her three years as manager. Unfortunately, when he finally got to practice, he only got a few botched receives in before the practice came to a close.

And now, he’s jammed his finger in his shoe locker. So excuse Hinata if he is not as bright and sunny after the few hours he’s just had.

He holds his finger in a cradle, as he walks down the hallways of the school, to drop off his bag in class, first, before going to wash off his hands.

Hinata slides open the door to his classroom, and walks over to his seat. Kageyama sits in the desk behind his own, eyeing Hinata as he makes his way to him.

Hinata’s heart beats a heavy thump in his chest, his mouth tempted to smile at his friend, but instead, he wears his current sour mood on his sleeve. His mouth ends up in a tangle between a happy greeting and painful grimace.

“What’s wrong?” Kageyama asks, with no preamble. “You looked upset this morning and now...”

“Jammed my finger in the locker,” Hinata says.

Kageyama’s eyes widen. “Let me see.”

Shrugging, Hinata extends his hand. The hangnail on his injured finger is swollen and red. With great care, Kageyama lightly examines his finger. He barely touches the tip but Hinata still flinches at the contact. He’s not sure if it’s because of the pain or because of the light blush he feels warming his cheeks.

Humming to himself, Kageyama whips around to dig in his bag. Hinata watches him, confused as to what caused this behavior.

“Kageyama?”

His friend doesn’t answer as he pulls out a package of tissues, a water bottle, and a padded box, which he snaps open. Hinata finally sits down in his seat and glances at the interior of the box.

It’s a nail file kit.

Hinata’s eyebrows lift. “For me?”

Kageyama nods his head.

“I don’t even know which one to use,” Hinata says, as he looks at the set of metal tools. They’re all in a neat line, strapped securely into place.

“Give me your hand.”

Hinata jolts from his examination, blinking up at Kageyama. ”What?”

Kageyama motions with his fingers. “Give me your hand.”

“Okay.” Hinata is too surprised to bother voicing an argument. He’s not sure he even wants to.

Kageyama takes his hand, delicate as he places it in position. He takes out a pair of pinching-like metal, and carefully singles out Hinata’s injured finger. _Clip clip_. The hangnail is removed.

“I don’t have a medkit on me, but I always carry tissues,” Kageyama says, conversationally. He places the hangnail on a solitary tissue, then takes another and swathes it in water from his bottle. Hinata watches in quiet wonderment as Kageyama dabs the blood away where it remains.

“Hmm.” Kageyama considers Hinata’s hand. He’s tempted to shake under the scrutiny, but he doesn’t move. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Sure,” Hinata immediately agrees, though he doesn’t know what he confirmed. His brain is a little fuzzy from the care he’s receiving.

Kageyama grabs a long file. This one Hinata knows. He has seen Kageyama with it a number of times during breaks in practice matches or for rest during regular practice. It’s to refine the nails.

Kageyama’s hand, Hinata realizes, as he picks up his own again, is below lukewarm, a touch cold. It feels nice on Hinata’s hands. The file moves back and forth, in a practiced motion, across his nails. Kageyama moves efficiently, much like he does on the court. His focus is solely on the task in front of him, and Hinata warms at the pinpoint focus.

The frustration from the morning slowly depletes out of Hinata’s body. His muscles turn to jelly as he listens to Kageyama’s direction to switch hands. The rain from outside trickles down the windows.

“You should take better care of your nails,” Kageyama says, breaking through the peaceful quiet.

“I didn’t intend to smash my finger in a locker, Kageyama.”

“No, but you should still take care of your nails.” Kageyama hums lightly. “Your hands are important.”

“My hands…?” The light buzzing in Hinata’s brain increases.

“For volleyball.” Kageyama studiously avoids his gaze, staring at Hinata’s hands and the swish swish motion of the nail file. His voice sounds gruff, though. “Important for volleyball.”

“Yeah.” The moment between them settles.

“Done.” Kageyama places the file down. Hinata blinks. He didn’t even register pain when he had gotten to his jammed finger, too zoned out on the sensation of the file.

Kageyama packs up his kit and Hinata feels a slight twinge at the loss of contact. His friend brushes up the debris and throws the tissue away. Then, he places his kit away.

Hinata pulls his hands back into his own space.

“Wait.”

“Kageyama?” Hinata says.

His friend pulls out a roll of tape. “One last thing.”

He grabs Hinata’s hand, still so lightly and gentle. He meticulously wraps Hinata’s injured finger in tape, from base to tip. He then wraps the finger against Hinata’s middle one.

“There.” Kageyama rips off the last section of tape and smooths it down against Hinata’s hand. “You can play in practice now.”

Hinata holds his doctored hand to his chest. “Thank you.”

Kageyama nods his head. Under his breath, he murmurs, “I hope you feel better.”

Hinata’s mouth breaks into a smile, past the tension he’d been feeling all morning. His first smile during the dreary day. “Kageyama-kun, why are you being so nice today? Is it upside down day?”

“Dumbass.” Kageyama’s ears burn red. “I’m nice.”

“I guess you are.” Hinata glances at his fingers covered in tape.

The bell rings, breaking the atmosphere. During their nail maintenance episode, the class had begun to fill. But no one had spared them a look or distrubed their conversation.

As the class assembles, Hinata sends Kageyama one last smile before facing the front.

Today is turning around.

+++

Hinata may have made that assumption too soon. In his rush to get to school that morning, he left his late-night studying on his desk, his completed math assignment mocking him from its place far away back at home. Having to stand in the hallway with his hands on his head kinda sucked.

When he comes back, though, Kageyama slides him a sheet of copied notes of what he missed.

Hinata carefully tucks the sheet in his math notebook.

So his day is a little sour. Lunch would be happening soon and then he could spend the time with his third year friends, bickering with Kageyama, and maybe Tsukishima, while Yamaguchi and Yachi laughed.

But then, after the bell rings, but before he can go to the courtyard with his friends, a girl from the next class over stops him in his path.

“Hinata-kun?”

“Yes?” Hinata says, because he’s polite, even to a stranger he’s never talked to before. Kageyama stands just behind him with a raised eyebrow.

“Could I speak to you?” the girl asks. She blushes all the way to her dark hair, fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding Hinata’s eyes. His stomach takes a dive.

“Yeah, sure.” He coughs. “I was just about to go to lunch… want to talk on the way there?”

“Alone,” she says. The nervous energy comes off of her in waves and Hinata wishes he had the ability to stop this before it was too late. “Could we talk alone?”

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut. He blinks them open. “Yeah, sure.” He turns towards Kageyama. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

Kageyama’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t seem to want to leave Hinata by himself, but eventually, he acquiesces. He walks down the hall, leaving Hinata and the nice girl behind.

Hinata motions with his head and walks down the hall in another direction. He drops off into a quieter hallway, one where they’ll have privacy. His stomach clenches the whole way there.

Then, as he stops by a wall, the girl abruptly stops, too. She faces him, and Hinata can tell she’s feeling anxious, but he really doesn’t know if he has the energy to go through this.

When third year started, Hinata ended up getting more confessions than he ever had in the past. As the ace of the volleyball team, having gone to nationals more than once, he figures that must be where the attention had been coming from. Yachi had countered this and said that it was because of Hinata’s muscle growth and swoopy hair, attracting a lot of attention in school. Even Kageyama had grumbled his agreement, which surprised Hinata.

It doesn’t get easier, though. The discomfort from having to turn someone down… Hinata really dislikes it.

He just hopes he is wrong this one time, and that she has a different question to ask him. Maybe about homework, though Hinata is really only good at languages.

They’ve been standing in silence for a while, the girl mumbling to herself while Hinata waits for her to assemble her thoughts. Finally, she breathes in and out, and whips her head up to stare into his eyes. “Hinata-kun, I know we don’t talk but I’ve always admired you,” she says. Fuck. Hinata can already tell what’s coming next. “You’re kind to everyone and so dedicated to volleyball, and it’s really amazing. I’ve always wanted to catch your attention but I’ve been too afraid… I finally gathered the courage to tell you: I like you. Will you go out with me?”

Hinata sighs, looking away from her wide, hopeful eyes. “Um… see…” He doesn’t know what to say. How to make this rejection less hurtful. “I’m sorry… but I’m not interested.”

As her eyes glimmer with unshed tears, Hinata knows by being blunt he might have made this worse. “Oh… ok. Um. C-can I ask why?”

“I don’t… uh…” Hinata swallows the discomfort in his throat. “I don’t really date, and like you said, we don’t know each other very well—”

“But we can!” the girl cuts him off. “We can talk more or hang out or—”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata says, feeling worse and worse. “I can’t.”

“Are you sure you can’t?—”

“I can’t—

“But why—”

“I just can’t!” Hinata snaps. “I don’t need to give you a reason!”

The girl looks at him with overfilling eyes, lips trembling at his outburst. She backs away, step by step, turning to run down the hallway.

Hinata slides his body against the wall and rubs his eyes. He didn’t mean to yell he’s just so… tired, after the day he’s had. He sits on the ground and pulls at his shoelaces. The rain outside patters lightly against the windows.

When he finally gets up, he decides he wants to be on his own for a bit.

He eats quietly in his classroom, shoveling rice into his mouth while glaring at his desk. When he finishes, he throws his trash away and packages up his bento. Then, he places his arms on his desk and rests his head on them.

He falls into a fitful rest.

+++

At some point, his nap is disturbed by the chatting of fellow classmates. Lunch isn’t quite finished, but Hinata realizes someone placed a soft jacket beneath his head.

It smells nice, like a cool spring rain. Comforting and tranquil. He tucks his head into the cloth and snoozes for a bit more, his brain filtering out the noise dancing around him.

+++

Hinata feels slightly better after his nap, only a little groggy. He pushes aside his earlier frustrations, and does decently well in his classes the rest of the day, taking notes and staying awake during the lectures. Yachi had been determined to teach Hinata good studying habits, and some of them had stuck.

After school ends, Hinata gets to the volleyball club room before most of his teammates. He’s about to take his shirt off when he realizes:

He didn’t have any practice clothes.

Hinata bites his lip. Well, he could wear the extra pair from this morning, it was probably only a little damp with sweat…

“Here.”

A cloth t-shirt and shorts are shoved into his hands.

“Stock up on extras so you never run out,” he hears, before Kageyama leaves the room.

Hinata blinks at the retreating figure, the clothes tucked against his arms. Eventually, he unwraps the shirt and shorts, and changes into them.

He gets the same waft of spring air as he did earlier, and Hinata smiles to himself.

The shirt fits decently, tight across his chest and a bit long, but he wears it better than if he was a first year. Luckily, his muscle growth helps with the fit. The shorts, on the other hand, grip his thighs tight.

Oh well. It would have to do for now.

His walk to the gym is nice. The cool rain had washed away and left the sun peeking out from behind the clouds.

He enters the gym and helps set up the net, like he always does. Kageyama and him don’t talk about the clothes, but his gaze seems to linger on him.

When the last member from the team arrives, Yamaguchi calls the team to circle around him.

“Er… Hinata?” Yamaguchi coughs. “Are those the extra clothes?”

“No.” Hinata plays with the hem of his shirt, which would cover the shorts if it were only a few inches longer. “Why?”

“The shorts....” a younger year says. He avoids Hinata’s gaze. “They’re a little tight.”

“Oh, yeah, but it should be fine, right?” Hinata doesn’t see the issue.

Yamaguchi waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine—”

“Damn, Hinata, who knew you were packing that much ass?”

Hinata whips around to see who spoke, but he can’t locate the voice. The team had grown much bigger in a few years, enough for a reserve team, and no one seemed to want to claim the comment. And normally, this wouldn’t bother him, but today…

He bursts with fury. “Shut the hell up.”

The team gasps, and Yamaguchi’s eyes widen. He rushes to assemble order as the team murmurs in shock. Hinata’s eyes twinge at the corners and he flees the room, sprinting back to the club room.

He slams the door open, not caring for propriety as he shoves on his school pants. He leaves the shirt on, and collapses to the floor.

Placing his head in his hands, he wills himself not to give in.

He’s okay. He’s okay.

After counting his breaths, until the anger slowly, slowly ebbs out of him, he picks up his phone from his bag. He needs something to distract him, anything. Pulling up his email, he blinks at the one at the top, mocking him with its bold text.

His eyes start to water.

_Regarding your visa application…_

If he didn’t provide a final piece of proof of his residence, his application would be rejected. He hadn’t checked his email in a few days and now only had 48 hours left.

The stress of the day finally breaks, overwhelming his senses and clogging his throat.

He places his phone down, crossing his arms over his body, and cries, dry sobs turning into wet, ugly hiccups, the emotions of the tumultuous day making his head tingle. Hinata lets himself feel, lets himself tumble through the ups and downs of the day, and how fucking shitty he feels.

He’s so tired. He wants to sleep and try again tomorrow. Biking in the rain. Falling into mud. Jamming his finger. Forgetting his homework. Rejecting that girl. Getting teased for his appearance. _Regarding your visa application._

It wasn’t just one thing. It was everything. The stress of the day, of his impending future, of every little thing that had gone wrong.

He hates it so much.

So he lets himself cry. Lets tears stream down his face and snot to bubble down his throat. There was no one here to see him, after all.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, with his hands tangled around his knees. But when his sobs trail off into raw gasps and finally, quiet breaths, he takes in one final shuddering inhale.

Then, he locks it all down.

After he releases the tension, he goes to change his shoes. He’s only in his socks, having thrown off his volley shoes in his drastic need to change his clothes.

There’s a package in his club locker. A brown bag.

Hinata did not put that there.

Warily, he removes the bag from his locker. He unwraps it, looks inside.

The meatbun at the bottom is still warm.

Hinata laughs, a bubbly one that travels from his belly, coming out wet around the leftovers of his breakdown. He sniffs, and wipes at his eyes with his arm. He sinks his teeth into the meatbun.

It’s delicious. He almost cries again because of it.

Whoever gave him this bun, Hinata silently thanks them. They must have seen him crying, to Hinata’s chagrin, but at least they knew him enough not to interrupt him or let him know they had seen him.

Hinata polishes off the last of the bun, licking his fingers and smacking his lips. He chuckles again, so delirious after his day.

It doesn’t take him long to pack up his bag to head back. He’d text Yamaguchi an explanation later. Right now, he just wants to go home.

At the bike racks, though, a dark figure stands by, kicking at one of Hinata’s tires.

“Kageyama?”

Kageyama freezes, and turns around. He takes one look at Hinata’s face and his mouth twitches into a pout. And not a pout that Hinata favors.

This one looks like he’s worried.

Hinata coughs, swallows. “What are you doing? Practice isn’t over yet.” He winces as his voice cracks over his words.

“I know,” is all Kageyama says.

Hinata looks around for something to say. He can’t exactly get to his bike, as Kageyama is standing in front of it. His fingers play with the hem of his shirt. “Ah, sorry, I kinda stole your shirt.”

“Keep it.”

Hinata smiles weakly. “Thanks, then, I guess.”

They stand there, not exactly avoiding each other’s eyes but not meeting them either. A breeze brushes by Hinata’s face, cooling his reddened eyes. He sniffs through his swollen nose.

This inadvertently draws Kageyama’s attention.

“Are you…” Kageyama starts. He shifts his weight. Tries again. “Are you feeling better?”

Things click into place. Kageyama leaving practice early. The meatbun. Leaving him to cry in peace. Hinata’s mouth wobbles and his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Did you… did you see me—?”

“Only a little,” Kageyama rushes to explain. “I promise I left fast.”

“Oh,” Hinata says. “Ok.”

“Do you wanna talk—?”

“No.” Hinata clenches his hands. “I really don’t.”

“Sorry—”

“Please don’t apologize,” Hinata laughs weakly. “I’m not mad at you. I just.” Hinata stares at the ground. “Today has been a lot.”

“I get it,” Kageyama says. He shifts on his feet. “I’ll miss you at practice.”

Hinata’s heart clenches, and he does something impulsive. Without looking up, Hinata slams his body into Kageyama’s, clutching at his back to ground himself. He inhales a shuddering breath and presses his face against Kageyama’s chest.

Kageyama doesn’t respond right away, he’s stiff and unnatural; then, he relaxes and weaves his arms around Hinata, as careful as he was this morning with his hands. Hinata squeezes Kageyama tight. He responds with a light squeeze of his own.

They don’t speak, Hinata’s head tucked under Kageyama’s, but as he holds him, Hinata feels less like a drained human slug and more like his cracked shards have gently been placed back together.

It’s not perfect. Hinata’s throat is still clogged with tension and mucus, and it doesn’t fix the day he had. Yet, for a second, he feels a sliver of happiness blossom in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I waited two days to post this, I think that's pretty strong of me. This can be read as a stand-alone, but I'll be writing a second part in the series!
> 
> Thanks to Robin for beta-ing and Anna for the prompt that spiralled this fic <3
> 
> twitter: [@majesticdeku](https://twitter.com/majesticdeku)  
> tumblr: [majesticanna](https://majesticanna.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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